


Miskan's Tale

by elynne



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, Highmountain, Ironhoof, Prepfoot, Prepfoot Enclave, Skyhorn, cults are bad, tauren - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 16:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14116275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elynne/pseuds/elynne
Summary: The Highmountain Tauren Miskan tells the story of her past.





	Miskan's Tale

All right... I think I'm finally ready to tell my story.

My name is Miskan. I was a member of the Tiderock tribe--a tiny clan of just nine members, including myself. We fished and foraged along the Rockaway Shallows, and had a small cave where we dried and preserved our bounty. Greatmother Siru was a weather-teller, and we relied on her advice to know when we needed to shelter from storms, or when we would have clear days for our work. When the weather was rough, or when our store-room was full, we would take the long hike up the Rockaway Shelf to Tradewind Post, and barter with the Skyhorn. And often, as we passed through the Prepfoot compound, we would leave them gifts--properly preserved fish, salt we'd harvested from the ocean water, or extra grain from the Skyhorn. We politely ignored Trand's rants, and sometimes tried to convince a Prepfoot of proper food keeping methods. They always had a half-starved look to them, a weird light in their eyes that made me shiver when I was a calf.

When I was in my twelfth spring, a sickness came to the Tiderock tribe in our camp at the Shallows. I was one of the first to succumb, but I recovered quickly and returned to good health soon after. It was much harder on the elders. When all of the adults were either ill or frantically caring for the others, I was sent to run up the Shelf path to get help.

I ran uphill for hours, legs and lungs aching, until I reached the Prepfoot compound. I approached several of their members and begged for help for my tribe. They refused to make a decision, and instead sent me to speak to Trand. He listened to my story, then solemnly told me that my tribe's illness was due to having ignored his words, that it was sent by Deathwing to teach us our folly in constantly passing by enlightenment and punish our wilful evasions, and that if any survived he would welcome us to the Prepfoot tribe. 

There was no arguing with him. As soon as he spoke, the other Prepfoot members nodded and turned away, refusing to listen or look at me again. I wanted to collapse in tears, but my tribe still needed me, so I continued my run up the path.

Night was falling when I finally staggered into Tradewind Post, and I was barely able to gasp out my plea for help before falling senseless. They cared for me there, and sent healers flying down to rescue my tribe... but they were too late. Of our nine members, only three survived--my mother, Uncle Tarvek, and myself.

Tarvek decided to travel to the Ironhoof Enclave. He was strong and healthy, and though he had no experience with mining, he believed that he could learn. Mother was devastated with grief at losing our family and tribe. Somehow, Trand knew exactly what to say to her, to bend her horns under his hand. By Midsummer, we were both initiated into the Prepfoot Enclave.

Although mother's belief grew and deepened over time, it never took root in my mind, possibly because I hated Trand and despised the Prepfoot. Without the Tiderock tribe's contributions, the Prepfoot had to rely on donations from the Skyhorn, who rarely thought about their backwards cousins on the Shelf. Trand and the others never paid much attention to me, and they kept mother busy with constant testing to "prove herself" after our tribe's history of contempt, so I began making a habit of traveling up the Shelf on my own to visit the Skyhorn. I made friends with several members of their tribe, and they gave me food, which I took back down and tried to share with my mother. When she refused, I hid it instead, using it to sustain me in between visits to Tradewind Post.

I had hoped that my mother would recover from her grief and one day follow me up to join the Skyhorn, but she only sank deeper into the Prepfoot ideology. Five summers passed, and I began to realize that the Prepfoot were preparing me to be bonded with Trand. I couldn't wait for my mother any longer. I ran up the path for the last time, and asked to be accepted into the Skyhorn tribe.

They had been waiting for my decision, and welcomed me, sharing my grief at abandoning my mother to the Prepfoot. I began preparations for the Skyhorn rites of passage, given a great eagle fledgling to bond with, but my emotions were still clouded with anger and depression. On my trial solo flight, the fragile bond snapped, and the eagle dumped me off his back before vanishing into the mountains. I remember every moment of my fall, but I have never recovered my memory of hitting the ground.

The druid who cared for me told me I was very lucky to have survived, much less have the use of my full body, after that fall. Chief Lasan came to me as I was recovering and told me gently that although I had not passed the rite, I could still become a member of the tribe--a Nestwatcher, one who supports the fliers without having an eagle of their own--and attempt the trial again after a full year had passed. He asked me to give him my decision after I had healed. I talked with the druid healer, and it was there that I began to learn the druidic path.

I had intended to accept the Chief's offer, but when I finally walked out of the medicine tent on my own hooves, I discovered something horrifying: I was now terrified of heights. I almost fainted trying to cross a hanging bridge, and I could not get within five feet of any kind of high edge without being sent into a shaking panic. The druid stayed by my side, helping me make my way to Thunder Totem, and then, when I found that the high platforms were causing regular panic attacks, assisted me in settling on the ground below, near the Rivermane village.

I stayed there for several seasons, continuing to train as a druid, hoping that my terrors would pass. And then... the Legion came. When a call was put out asking for Highmountain volunteers to aid our new allies in the Horde and explore the lands of Azeroth, I presented myself as a candidate, and to my surprise was accepted.

Much has passed since that time. I have traveled across Kalimdor and come to the Eastern Kingdoms to join the Wolfmane tribe. I am still learning to fly on my own wings, to overcome my fear of the open sky. And I have been given an insight that I believe may lead me to finally discover my totem.

I do not yet have a use-name, but I hope to find one here, in this new world, among my new family and friends. I thank you for giving me this opportunity for a new life.


End file.
